The Length of Her Hair
by N3L
Summary: After the nightmare of fulfilling the prophecy is over, Raven finds herself in her room, staring at the new length of her hair and scissors in hand. Character exploration piece. A guess at what went through Raven's mind and why she cut her hair.


**AN: This random little tidbit was directly inspired from the scene in 'Birthmark' where y'know her leotard's torn to shreds and her hair grows out, and how she appears to take no time in waiting to cut it back to it's original length. *shrug* I feel...so-so about this. I just had to put it down for the sake of putting it down. Meh? Hope you enjoy anyway, it's been a while since I've delved into writing. :)  
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**The Length of Her Hair**

Unbeknownst to those around her, Raven cut her hair not only out of functionality. It was true enough that having long hair was strange for her, and she probably wouldn't be able to fight properly with it. It'd at least take her some time to getting used to. But aside from that, there was another reason Raven kept her hair so neat and short.

_It made her feel more human._

That terrible episode of her life, her _birthday, _when Slade grappled with her on that decaying rooftop…Trigon's power coursing through him…her demonic heritage was compelled to show itself. It's master, _no, _it's _creator _beckoned it forth with a single wave of his overwhelmingly large clawed hand the color of blood. And so other than the burning marks of warning all over her body, her hair grew. It was painful and long and unruly. It swung in her eyes, matted with the sweat from the pains of all she'd been through and tried to avoid. As soon as she got to her senses, over the shock of that it was _really all happening, _and spied her reflection in the mirror back at the tower in the dark seclusion of her own room…she couldn't stand to look at herself. Her torn leotard in savage rages edges about her body. The raw red of the marks coming up to glow menacingly at her, mocking her very _existence. _

She damn well couldn't rid herself of the markings, but she would get rid of _all this hair. _Aesthetically, she did not care how she looked in this instant, whether or not people thought she looked better this way or not didn't even enter her mind. She _herself _did not even register that thought.

She only saw the demons.

Though, logically, it was only hair. She knew that. Just because her hair had grown out did not automatically make her a demon, but all that it symbolized then made her itch with disgust, fear, self loathing and everything in between.

The sound of the scissors smooth metal gliding across each other and through the individual hairs calmed her. It was a beautiful sound to her ears. As the hairs fell to the ground, her head grew literally lighter, and her shoulders metaphorically. With those scissors she cleansed herself as best she could. It was a small salvation, but nonetheless better than none. Her hair was short and neat once more and her heart stilled just a bit, no longer pounding painfully against her chest like some demented beast that wanted to break free from the cage of her ribs.

She could never achieve complete humanity. Of that she was undeniably sure of. She is half-demon. Nothing could change that. It is in her blood. It _is her. _She would not deny herself her own identity. After all, if it weren't for her demonic heritage she would not have all the abilities she possessed right now. She would not be able to fight, to become a _Titan, _if she were a mere mortal human. Raven harbored no desire to rid herself of it. Only her destiny. As much as it was a curse, it had somehow…someway become a blessing. But it still remained that it was dark, and potentially very dangerous.

And she'd like to have all her concentration on controlling that with a steady hand, so as she looked upon her reflection in the mirror the passing months and eyed the length of her hair with critical stare, she'd raise the scissors up, posed and ready. The lovely blades gleaming with retribution. And snipped away, keeping her hair manageable and short and neat.

So when Starfire caught her in the hallway just the next morning, bright eyes and all that spoke, "Friend Raven! You cut your hair so soon?" The alien was smart enough not to question how her hair got so long in the first place within the span of a day.

"Of course, Starfire."

The alien pouted, "But you looked so lovely with your hair long! I was hoping we could partake in the braiding of hair and styling with the hot iron devices!" The disappointment was beginning to show on her face.

Raven offered the tiniest of smile, wistful in its wake. "Sorry, Star. But you know how I like my hair short."

The sorceress watched the alien sink an inch down more, somewhat resigned, the disappointment rolling off of her in waves. Sighing to herself, Raven did something she usually would not do, because it never occurred to her that the length of her hair would matter to someone else.

"Well. Doesn't mean that none of us can have our hair braided," she looked at the pretty alien and smiled.

Starfire's green eyes widened as she caught the implications, her hands came up together at her chest, "Do you mean…you are willing to partake in the braiding of my hair?"

"Come on, let's go to your room."

The girl let out a squeal, "Oh, how WONDERFUL!"

It was funny almost; the significance of the length of her hair.


End file.
